


A Snowy Night

by tqpannie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-17
Updated: 2005-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-25 13:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: Hermione relives the night her parents died





	A Snowy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

She stood alone, outside what use to be her childhood home, and in her hand she held a single red rose. She pulled her cloak tighter around her as the wind caused the falling snow to swirl around her. She hadn't been back since that night, not since the night her home was invaded by Lucius Malfoy and her parents had forced her to Apparate away. It was snowing that night too.

She wasn't sure how she knew exactly where to Apparate. She wasn't sure how he heard her crying on his front porch but he did. She had curled into a little ball, teeth chattering, and tears streamed down her cheeks in rivers. That's how he found her that night...She was alone and she the only clear thing she can remember from that moment was the love in his eyes.

Her clothes were wet and she didn't know how long she had been there but he'd bundled her into his arms and carried her inside. His hands had been warmed but her blood was so cold. She felt as if she'd never be warm again and she didn't protest when he drew a bath and forced her into the warm water.

She should have been embarrassed that he took off her clothes but he kept his eyes averted. She should have been mortified that he washed her hair and her body. But she wasn't because he made her feel alive again. He made her feel as if there was hope.

She knew the Firecall would come and they would tell her her parents were dead. She knew the Dark Mark would hover over her home. She was just waiting for them to find her there.

He helped her from the bath, dried her hair, and helped her into a pair of his warmest sweats. He hadn't asked her what happened and she isn't sure that she even spoke to him. She can remember feeling empty, feeling guilty, and feeling small. He led her to the kitchen and made them a cup of tea. She watched him as he worked and he heart jumped into her throat.

Who was this man that took over the body of her best friend? Where did the boy she had a mild crush on go? Was the war stealing his innocence too?

She broke down in tears then and he held her while she cried. His words soothed her and even now she couldn't remember what he said. The Firecall came and she fell apart. They had killed her parents because of her...because of who she was. She raged against all of them, blaming everyone, and finally she sank to her knees and screamed. He would tell her later it was the worst thing he'd ever heard. She doesn't remember the scream...Only lancing pain through her heart. She screamed for her parents over and over but they didn't come.

There was only him. He enveloped her in his arms but she fought against him--refusing his comfort, refusing his warmth. She beat her fist against his chest and demanded that he free her. He refused...He always refused. She called him names, she cursed at him, and she even drew her wand and leveled it at him.

He wouldn't let go...

He took her to his bed that night and held her against his chest. He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, and promised that he would always take care of her.

He didn't say he loved her that night.

The morning dawned and she awoke as the sun lit the room. The man holding her was sleeping, the lines on his face were deep, and suddenly she realized he was no longer a little boy. He was no longer the same child she met all those years ago and she wondered what had changed him.

Her fingertip traced his bottom lip, the frown lines around his eyes that didn't even out in sleep, and she brushed the fringe from his forehead. He didn't stir when she whispered his name...he merely pulled her closer and snuggled into her warmth.

She watched him, stared at the freckle that adorned the corner of his lip, and she saw his mouth twitch. Even in dreams he found laughter...Would she ever laugh again? His eyes fluttered when she ran her fingers down his arm and slowly they opened to reveal sleepy blue eyes.

Their gazes locked and she couldn't look away. Was this the proper moment? Was this the proper way for her to show him what she felt for him?

He took the choice from her by saying it first. "I love you."

Three simple words but from him they gave her the world. They gave her hope, renewed her spirit, and she whispered them in return.

Their lips met and the world tilted on its axis.

Yet he didn't make love to her that morning.

So she was here, at her childhood home, and she felt him behind her before he spoke.

"I love you, Hermione," He whispered as his arms came around her waist.

"I love you too, Ron," She dropped the rose on the sidewalk. "Take me home."

Of course with him...She was always home. It just took a while to realize it.


End file.
